Liaison
by biddlediddle
Summary: Eventual Roy/Ed. As Ed tracks down promising rumors of a Philosopher's Stone in the North, Roy attempts to deal with some less-then-helpful people back in Central. Can the two survive long enough to solve the puzzle?


in·can·des·cent  
_adj_  
**1** glowing with heat. **2** intensely bright. **3** to do with a material that gives light by incandescence.(1)

A white glove rests on the desk, seemingly dropped there by someone with other things to do than put their clothing away properly. Ed ignores it, sparing only a brief thought for Colonel Bastard before he starts rummaging quickly through the wooden drawers. He's looking for a folder - probably beige or manilla (is that even a colour?) or some other bland, impersonal tone. He's only got a moment before the Flame Alchemist comes back.

Biting back a curse, he closes that drawer and starts on the one beneath it.

He can sense time ticking away, feels slightly nervous under a much thicker layer of irritation. It's all Mustang's fault anyway, dropping hints but no, never any _concrete_ information. _"I received a file today,"_ he'd said in that smug tone of his, _"There's word of a girl who can heal any illness somewhere out in the country. But-"_

_Aha!_

His automail finger catches the edge of a tan folder labeled **CONFIDENTIAL**, buried under piles of reports and scraps of paper. He snags the papers inside (a short report for something so - possibly, hopefully - monumental) and looks up, scanning the room again. It's still empty.

He replaces the folder, stuffs the report under his shirt, and nonchalantly leaves the office for the safe haven of the library.

---

Half an hour later Ed's hidden in the back recesses of the mammoth library, behind rows and rows of books. He's chosen this spot for a reason - the Ancient Histories (Non-Alchemical, Non-Fiction) section is sparsely populated at even the busiest times. He sits down on the cool tile floor, smoothing the slightly crumpled papers out against his leg. He reads, curiously and intently:

_TO  
Colonel Roy Mustang  
Central City  
FROM  
Second Lieutenant John Hames  
Rung Village, North Area_

_Sir,  
Reports of a girl (age 16; black hair; blue eyes; roughly 5'7'' tall) with the ability to heal any injury or illness. Investigated from the fifth to the seventh. Was unable to verify for myself. Heard eyewitness accounts from four villagers - transcripts attached. The girl appears to have a red stone, approx. three cubic centimetres in size, around her neck. It supposedly glows incredibly brightly when she does the healing.  
Apparently this has been occurring for roughly the last three months, am unable to obtain an exact date. At least 23 people have had their sicknesses miraculously cured by this girl. She is not a native resident of the village, am unable to obtain a date of her moving here. Village very hostile towards military efforts. _

The next four pages are as described - testimonials from villagers who had apparently witnessed the 'miracles'. Ed would have described the whole thing as some sort of hoax - except for the red stone.

His hands tremble slightly as he stands, sorting the pages back into order, but he knows from long, bitter experience not to get too excited at a possible break.

It sounds good, though.

--

He stands outside Mustang's office, considering the best plan to return the papers to Mustang. Maybe he'd just wait until the other alchemist left again, it couldn't be that long, the lazy bastard -

"Fullmetal?"

Crap!

Edward crosses his arms, utterly careful not to crinkle the papers noisily while concealing them better beneath his shirt. It's the colonel speaking from only a few feet away, having opened the large wooden door to leave.

"Yeah?" Ed asks.

"What are you doing standing outside my office? It's well past six o'clock."

Ed deftly avoids the question.

"Well, what are you doing here?" He smirks. "Planning more ways to suck up to people?"

Mustang raises an eyebrow.

"No, I asked first. But -" He reaches a gloved finger out and doesn't quite touch Ed's chin with it. "I think I might know anyway." The finger smooths downward, still not _quite_ touching. Edward's skin seems to tingle, he watches in fascination as the glove ghosts down, down, down to the nape of his neck, where it finally, gently, settles against his skin.

Ed gasps, and his arms clench involuntarily.

There is a loud _crinkle._

"Thought so." Mustang says, sounding far, far too satisfied for Edward, who has winced and bit his lip angrily. "I'd like those back where they were by oh-eight-hundred, Fullmetal. I need them in a meeting tomorrow." He pauses, then adds, "You could have just _asked_."

_Like hell._

Ed yanks the documents from under his shirt and hands them to Mustang, who takes them with a raised eyebrow. He then spins around, the red coat whirling dramatically, and stalks off down the hallway, reminiscent of an angry cat.

Mustang watches his retreating back for a long moment as the papers cool in his hands, before smoothing them with a sigh and replacing them were they were originally.

He then, too, leaves.

A man down the hall looks up from a filing cabinet, pausing in his work of sorting and searching. A considering look passes over his face and he murmurs a single word.

"Interesting…"

--

(1) From the Collins Gage Canadian Paperback Dictionary, New Edition


End file.
